Once there was a poor Prince. He had a kingdom; it was very
tiny. Still it was large enough to marry upon, and on marriage
his heart was set.

Now it was certainly rather bold of him to say, "Will you
have me?" to the Emperor's own daughter. But he did, for
his name was famous, and far and near there were hundreds of
Princesses who would have said, "Yes!" and "Thank you!" too. But
what did the Emperor's daughter say? Well, we'll soon
find out.

A rose tree grew over the grave of the Prince's
father. It was such a beautiful tree. It bloomed only once in
five long years, and then it bore but a single flower. Oh, that
was a rose indeed! The fragrance of it would make a man forget
all of his sorrows and his cares. The Prince had a nightingale
too. It sang as if all the sweet songs of the world were in its
little throat. The nightingale and the rose were to be gifts to
the Princess. So they were sent to her in two large silver
cases.

The Emperor ordered the cases carried before him, to the
great hall where the Princess was playing at "visitors," with her
maids-in waiting. They seldom did anything else. As soon as the
Princess saw that the large cases contained presents, she clapped
her hands in glee. "Oh," she said, "I do hope I get a little
pussy-cat." She opened a casket and there was the splendid
rose.

"Oh, how pretty it is," said all the maids-in-waiting.

"It's more than pretty," said the Emperor. "It's
superb."

But the Princess poked it with her finger, and she almost
started to cry. "Oh fie! Papa," she said, "it isn't
artificial. It is natural."

"Oh, fie," said all her maids-in-waiting, "it's only
natural."

"Well," said the Emperor, "before we fret and pout,
let's see what's in the other case." He opened it,
and out came the nightingale, which sang so sweetly that for a
little while no one could think of a single thing to say against
it.

"Superbe!" "Charmant!" said the maids-in-waiting
with their smattering of French, each one speaking it worse than
the next.

"How the bird does remind me of our lamented Empress's
music box," said one old courtier. "It has just the same tone,
and the very same way of trilling."

The Emperor wept like a child. "Ah me," he said.

"Bird?" said the Princess. "You mean to say it's
real?"

"A real live bird," the men who had brought it assured
her.

"Then let it fly and begone," said the Princess, who refused
to hear a word about the Prince, much less to see him.

But it was not so easy to discourage him. He darkened his
face both brown and black, pulled his hat down over his eyes, and
knocked at the door.

"Hello, Emperor," he said. "How do you do? Can you give me
some work about the palace?"

"Well," said the Emperor, "people are always looking for jobs,
but let me see. I do need somebody to tend the pigs, because
we've got so many of them."

So the Prince was appointed "Imperial Pig Tender." He was
given a wretched little room down by the pigsties, and there he
had to live. All day long he sat and worked, as busy as could be,
and by evening he had made a neat little kettle with bells all
around the brim of it. When the kettle boiled, the bells would
tinkle and play the old tune:

"Oh, dear Augustin,
All is lost, lost, lost."

But that was the least of it. If anyone put his finger in
the steam from this kettle he could immediately smell whatever
there was for dinner in any cooking-pot in town. No rose was ever
like this!

Now the Princess happened to be passing by with all of her
maids-in-waiting. When she heard the tune she stopped and looked
pleased, for she too knew how to play "Oh, dear Augustin." It was
the only tune she did know, and she played it with one
finger.

"Why, that's the very same tune I play. Isn't
the swineherd highly accomplished? I say," she ordered, "go and
ask him the price of the instrument."

So one of the maids had to go, in among the pigsties, but
she put on her overshoes first.

"What will you take for the kettle?" she asked.

"I'll take ten kisses from the Princess," said the
swineherd.

"Oo, for goodness' sakes!" said the maid.

"And I won't take less," said the swineherd.

"Well, what does he say?" the Princess wanted to know.

"I can't tell you," said the maid. "He's too
horrible."

"Then whisper it close to my ear." She listened to what the
maid had to whisper. "Oo, isn't he naughty!" said the
Princess and walked right away from there. But she had not gone
very far when she heard the pretty bells play again:

"Oh, dear Augustin,
All is lost, lost, lost."

"I say," the Princess ordered, "ask him if he will
take his ten kisses from my maids-in-waiting."

"No, I thank you," said the swineherd. "Ten kisses from the
Princess, or I keep my kettle."

"Now isn't that disgusting!" said the Princess. "At
least stand around me so that no one can see."

So her maids stood around her, and spread their skirts wide,
while the swineherd took his ten kisses. Then the kettle was
hers.

And then the fun started. Never was a kettle kept so busy.
They boiled it from morning till night. From the
chamberlain's banquet to the cobbler's breakfast,
they knew all that was cooked in town. The maids-in-waiting
danced about and clapped their hands.

"We know who's having sweet soup and pancakes. We know
who's having porridge and cutlets. Isn't it
interesting?"

"Most interesting," said the head lady of the
bedchamber.

"Now, after all, I'm the Emperor's daughter,"
the Princess reminded them. "Don't you tell how I got
it."

"Goodness gracious, no!" said they all.

But the swineherd-that's the Prince, for nobody knew
he wasn't a real swineherd-was busy as he could be. This
time he made a rattle. Swing it around, and it would play all the
waltzes, jigs, and dance tunes that have been heard since the
beginning of time.

"Why it's superbe!" said the Princess as she
came by. "I never did hear better music. I say, go and ask him
the price of that instrument. But mind you-no more kissing!"

"He wants a hundred kisses from the Princess," said the
maid-in-waiting who had been in to ask him.

"I believe he's out of his mind," said the Princess,
and she walked right away from there. But she had not gone very
far when she said, "After all, I'm the Emperor's
daughter, and it's my duty to encourage the arts. Tell him
he can have ten kisses, as he did yesterday, but he must collect
the rest from my maids-in-waiting."

"Oh, but we wouldn't like that," said the maids.

"Fiddlesticks," said the Princess, "If he can kiss me he
certainly can kiss you. Remember, I'm the one who gives you
board and wages." So the maid had to go back to the
swineherd.

"A hundred kisses from the Princess," the swineherd told
her, "or let each keep his own."

"Stand around me," said the Princess, and all her
maids-in-waiting stood in a circle to hide her while the
swineherd began to collect.

"What can have drawn such a crowd near the pigsties?" the
Emperor wondered, as he looked down from his balcony. He rubbed
his eyes, and he put on his spectacles. "Bless my soul if those
maids-in-waiting aren't up to mischief again. I'd
better go see what they are up to now."

He pulled his easy slippers up over his heels, though
ordinarily he just shoved his feet in them and let them flap.
Then, my! How much faster he went. As soon as he came near the
pens he took very soft steps. The maids-in-waiting were so busy
counting kisses, to see that everything went fair and that he
didn't get too many or too few, that they didn't
notice the Emperor behind them. He stood on his tiptoes.

"Such naughtiness!" he said when he saw them kissing, and he
boxed their ears with his slipper just as the swineherd was
taking his eighty-sixth kiss.

"Be off with you!" the Emperor said in a rage. And both the
Princess and the swineherd were turned out of his empire. And
there she stood crying. The swineherd scolded, and the rain came
down in torrents.

"Poor little me," said the Princess. "If only I had married
the famous Prince! Oh, how unlucky I am!"

The swineherd slipped behind a tree, wiped the brown and
black off his face, threw off his ragged clothes, and showed
himself in such princely garments that the Princess could not
keep from curtsying.

"I have only contempt for you," he told her. "You turned
down a Prince's honest offer, and you didn't
appreciate the rose or the nightingale, but you were all too
ready to kiss a swineherd for a tinkling toy to amuse you. You
are properly punished."

Then the Prince went home to his kingdom, and shut and
barred the door. The Princess could stay outside and sing to her
heart's content: